Page 101 of The Falconer

He glances up without a hint of a smile. He looks surprised to find me there. ‘Aileana. Come in.’

I sit in the leather chair across from him. ‘What are you working on?’

‘My accounts,’ he says, putting the paper on top of a neat pile on the desk. ‘I believe the earl will be quite pleased with your dowry.’

It takes me a moment to realise he’s talking about Gavin and I almost wince. ‘I’m glad.’ The lie comes out easily. It has to. This is our goodbye and I want to do this right.

‘I’ve sent word to have the country estate prepared for you and your husband after the wedding,’ he says.

Your husband. I clasp my hands together so hard they ache. ‘Splendid.’

‘I appreciate you being reasonable about this.’ He starts to write on another paper. ‘Especially after our conversation the other day.’

What you want isn’t important.

‘Reasonable,’ I say. ‘Of course.’

Of course I’ll be reasonable about spending the rest of my life with a man I don’t love. He’s the only possible choice that won’t destroy my life and make me absolutely miserable. But what I want doesn’t matter, does it, Father? Placate me with a country retreat, but we both know it doesn’t mean a thing.

‘I do want to apologise for my absence this week. I’ve been settling matters for Galloway.’

He makes it sound as though he’s only been absent recently. The truth is, he’s never been there for me. Not for my entire life. I certainly don’t expect that to change.

‘Since you are here,’ he continues, ‘I should tell you that I’ll be leaving town today, so I won’t be able to attend the ball announcing your engagement. I have some business to conduct in the country. I’m sure you understand.’

I clench my hand in a fist. He keeps speaking as if my opinions don’t matter. As ifIdon’t matter. God, doesn’t he care about me, even a bit?

No. He’s leaving, just like he always does. He probably sought out the first opportunity he could to get away from me again. I should be glad he’s going. One less person I have to worry about if everything goes wrong. But I can’t forgive him for never being there when I needed a father most.

‘Oh, I understand.’ I can’t control the bitterness that creeps into my voice.

He doesn’t even hear it. ‘I shall return for your wedding, of course.’

‘That would belovely,’ I say. This time, the acerbity of my comment is all too clear.

Father frowns and sits back in his chair. The leather squeaks under his weight. ‘Are you well?’

No, I’m not. I’m close to breaking and screaming. I wish I could tell him that I don’t give a damn about the wedding, and that I want him to look me in the eye just once because it might be the last chance he’ll have.

‘Do you ever think about Mother?’ I ask, before I can stop myself.

Father inhales sharply and looks away. ‘Not now, Aileana.’

‘Why not?’

He shoves another piece of paper in front of him and scrawls violently. ‘It’s not an appropriate topic of conversation.’

My fingers clench harder. They’re so red now. ‘Why not?’ I repeat.

‘You may go.’ Father never looks up. His pen scratches the paper so hard it’s almost carving into the wood beneath. ‘I don’t care to discuss this with you.’

I stand and grip the chair’s arm. ‘But I do. Look at me.’ When he doesn’t, something breaks inside me. Desperation and hurt and an entire lifetime of being ignored by my absent father. ‘Damnation, Father,look at me.’

For the first time in a year, Father raises his eyes to meet mine. They are cold and guilty and . . . sad.

Just as quickly, he averts his gaze. ‘You look so much like her.’

His voice almost cracks and I stare at him in shock. I’ve never thought about my resemblance to Mother. I’m a tall, awkward creature with a mop of copper curls that never stay put. My mother was beautiful. When she moved or walked, she glided, feather-light. Her hair was always neatly styled and her skin was perfect alabaster. She never had any freckles, unlike me. She called mine angel kisses.

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